


All the Wrong Places

by aykayem



Series: available light [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-01
Updated: 2011-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem





	All the Wrong Places

You wake up first. It’s not surprising; you always rise with the sun. He barely stirs as you roll out of the bed, tossing thin cotton sheets to puddle atop his pale body; he rolls, giving a muddled groan, and immediately takes up the space you’ve now vacated. Like rolling into a sunbeam, a pleasant surprise to the bleary subconscious state of mind. You were barely gone, and he’s already there: so much for appreciation.

Your feet are cold against the tiles of the floor - and yes, even the cheap hardwood is tiled, as far as you’re concerned. There’s no way he has the drive or expenses to have proper flooring in his shoddy loft-style flat. It’s barely one bedroom, and not even a good one. The light tells you what was not obvious in the dark. Your toes curl, trying to suck back into your body for warmth. It’s an unspoken analogy telling you to get out now. He wouldn’t notice.

And in all likelihood, he wouldn’t. Even as you make a point of slamming the cupboard door once you snatch up a slightly dingy glass, as you loudly crank the water, running it until perfectly cold, you receive no sound nor sign that he ever notices. It’s possibly frustration that makes you slam the glass down, hearing the soft crack of the base after too much pressure; the water, left abandoned, drips slowly out onto the counter. It’s been seven years of tension, of insults hurled and blows traded by whatever means immediately at hand. There’s a fine line between love and hate, though, and you know there’s only so much of him you can take. You’ve been on and off for ages: last week off, last night on. Today was yet another day, another analysis of any available light, and it’s only shining through his clouded-over kitchen windows. A bright day, revealing more flaws than it hides - you can see heavy cracks in the façade, hear the soft, yet obnoxious snores coming from the other room, the only thing to shatter the tranquility of your morning; the buzz of nothingness between you.

It’s not the first time you’ve been with him. It was certainly the last.


End file.
